


Suddenly My Eyes are Open

by Sway



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sway/pseuds/Sway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Arthur found the key card in his pocket when he  padded his jacket for his cellphone. It was the room key for the Sheraton Airport Hotel and he couldn't help but grin at the post-it stuck to the back. It held the number #303 in crooked, hastily jotted numbers.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suddenly My Eyes are Open

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Nolan made them up, I just play with them. This is also **not beta'd.** The title is from "Illuminated" by Hurts. I had the hardest time coming up with a proper title, so please excuse possible unrelatedness. Otherwise, enjoy.

Arthur found the key card in his pocket when he padded his jacket for his cellphone.

It was the room key for the Sheraton Airport Hotel and he couldn't help but grin at the post-it stuck to the back. It held the number #303 in crooked, hastily jotted numbers.

Sticking the card back into his pocket, he continued the search for his phone but came up empty.

"The bastard," he mumbled under his breath, receiving a frown from a nun who passed by him with a suitcase almost twice her size. He smiled and nodded politely, growling another curse as soon as she was out of earshot.

As quickly as the LAX staff would let him, he retrieved his luggage and headed for the exit. Usually, he had a post-flight routine he stuck with. It was his job to make sure no one was following them, that all leads were dry, all ends tied up. He made sure everybody got a cab and knew when to meet for their debriefing. This time though... these things had to wait.

Outside the airport, he hailed a cab, flung his luggage on the back seat and told the driver his destination. It was short ride, just a couple of blocks, but with all the one-way-streets, it seemed to take an eternity to get there. He shifted impatiently in his seat until the cabby shot him a knowing grin. Oh, the hell did he know.

Arthur tried to look cool as he crossed the lobby for the bank of elevators, when he was, in fact, giddy as a schoolgirl. Thankfully, his suit and tie was the perfect cover for his anxiety.

The hallway on the third floor looked an awful lot like the one in the dream and for a fleeting second he felt the no-gravity nausea rising again. He fumbled for the key, tore off the post-it and stuck into the slot. The lock hissed and he pushed the handle.

"Are you looking for his, darling? I wonder what the others would say if they knew what kind of pictures you're keeping on here." Eames leaned nonchalantly against the window sill opposite the door, apparently browsing through the files on Arthur's cell phone.

"Well, they'd be curious to know that you took most of them yourself," Arthur shot back as he closed the door behind him, dropping his belongings by his feet. He leaned back against the door, his hands locked behind his back to hide they were actually shaking.

"I do photograph very well, don't I?" Eames smirked at him, holding up the phone to proof his point. It showed a very graphic anatomical study of himself.

They looked at each other from across the room, the air between them thick and heavy with tension and anticipation.

"So what happened to you?" Arthur asked to change the subject, a futile attempt to say the least.

"One man army knee-deep in snow." Eames shrugged, making it sound as though he was talking about what he had for lunch. "I had to de-fib Fischer after Mal shot him."

"Nice."

"Thanks. You?"

"Zero gravity fight in a hallway. And I had to blow up an up an elevator."

"Sweet." Eames nodded in appreciation. "Sorry I missed out on that." This was probably the closest thing to an "I missed you" that would ever come across Eames' lips.

Arthur couldn't keep the smirk of his face. "You think the others know?"

"Well, let's see..." Eames started counted off his fingers, taking a step forward with each finger raised.

"Ariadne was busy making moon eyes at Cobb." Pinkie finger.

"Cobb is still hung up on the ghost of dead wife." Ring finger.

"Yusuf is probably high all the time." Middle finger.

"And I don't think Saito cares much for what we're doing when we're not on his payroll." Index finger.

Holding up his thumb as both his last point and some sort of an 'okay', he added: "And even if they knew, I wouldn't give a flying fuck about it."

By the time he was done, there was only a hand's breadth of space between them. Arthur could feel the heat emanating from his body, could smell the scotch he had had on the plane and the cigarette he must have had outside the terminal. An intoxicating, almost haunting mixture only few people could pull off with style.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Well, that's too bad. Cause that's exactly what I came here for."

Arthur could only hope Eames would get it. They were both smart, witty, snide and sarcastic but not always on the same level. It had lead to a few, sometimes very ugly arguments solely based on a minor misunderstanding.

"Shut up, Arthur."

"Okay."

And they were on each other.

To call their fight for dominance, control and contact frantic would have been an understatement. Releasing all the pent up tension, they all but lashed out at one another, tumbling halfway across the room. Hands tugging on clothing, fingers fumbling with buttons, they had probably set a new world record in stripping each other down to their underwear.

It wasn't until they were both naked that Arthur's hand closed around Eames' wrist. "Shower first. You smell like plane."

Eames smirked at him. "You never cared before."

"First time for everything. It's been a long day." He tugged him along into the bathroom, stepped into the shower and turned on the water. It was warm immediately. With an eyebrow quirked in surprise, he looked at Eames.

The Forger grinned. "Impressed with my preparation, aren't you?"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

Arthur let the water run over him, not caring that he was about to flood the bathroom. The warmth seeped into his bones, relaxing the sore muscles in his shoulders. No matter what they told you about First Class flights, if you spent them fighting off attackers in a hallway with no gravity, they were far less than comfortable. He turned and leaned against the back wall of the shower, the tiles cool against his back.

Eames stepped into the shower with him, pulling the door close behind him. With one hand next to Arthur's head, he leaned into the other man, one leg between his, his knee inching closer to Arthur's hardening cock without actually touching him. With the other hand, Eames cupped his cheek, their faces only inches apart.

When their eyes met, a chill ran down Arthur's back that wasn't caused by the cold wall in his back. He had to swallow before he was able to manage a simple: "Hi."

He didn't know why he'd said it. He and Eames weren't much for formalities. In fact, whatever it was that they had, it wasn't hardly following any rules. There was something in the way Eames look at him just now, as though he had just seen him for the first time.

The Forger smiled at him. A genuine smile, not one of his lopsided smirks. "Hi."

Their kiss started slow, lips barely touching at first. When their tongues met, a little jolt ripped through Arthur's body and he moaned into Eames' mouth. He felt the other man's chuckle more than he could hear it.

Their tongues entangled in a battle for dominance, a fight Arthur quickly gave up to just relax and enjoy. His arm went around Eames' shoulder, pulling him closer, his broad chest pressing against his.

Eames' hand went from his face over his shoulder, fingers trailing along his side, eliciting a little giggle from Arthur. His fingernails raked gently over the pale skin of his hips until his hand closed over the Point Man's butt.

Arthur hooked his leg around Eames' waist, feeling his hardening cock trapped against his own. He gasped for air when Eames suddenly broke contact, taking half a step back from him. It took Arthur some willpower to open his eyes, shooting the Forger a questioning look.

He didn't receive an answer but just another smile that didn't quite touch Eames eyes. There was something strange in that look, something Arthur couldn't put his finger on.

Eames reached for one of the tiny complimentary shampoo bottles on the rack at the fixture, squirted something into the palm of his hand, then he ran his hand over Arthur's head. With his fingers he parted the gelled back strands, spreading shampoo all over his scalp.

Arthur tried to say something but as soon as Eames' fingers raked over that sensitive spot in the back of his neck, his eyes flickered shut and his head rolled forward. A low moan tumbled from his mouth before he even knew it.

With slow, circular motions, Eames worked his way from his forehead over his temples to the base of his skull, fingernails gently raking, massaging, getting rid of all the gel and the grime of the day.

When he was done, he grabbed Arthur by the shoulders, nudging him to turn around and step underneath the spray to rinse the soap from his hair. He ran his hands down his back, feeling the tendons and muscles twitch underneath Arthur's milky white skin. His fingers closed on his hips, pulling him against him, making him feel how hard he was.

Following the soap suds trailing down the small of Arthur's back, Eames' hand dipped further down, his thumb brushing over the crack of his ass.

Arthur hissed, tilting his hips to press back into the touch. He let out a series of mumbled groans as Eames' gently pressed his thumb against his puckered hole, then slowly pushed inside up to the first joint.

Bracing himself against the shower wall, Arthur spread his legs, giving the other man better access. He had missed this, had missed the teasing, the slow ministrations and how well Eames knew him. He knew where to touch him, were to scratch, where to tickle, and where to push just a little bit further.

He pushed back on the finger that slowly worked its way up his ass, rotating gently to spread the tight ring of muscles.

With the other hand, Eames reached around Arthur's body, his fingers closing around his cock. He leaned into him, his tongue and lips tracing the side his neck.

"Oh fuck...," Arthur moaned, his hips twitching between the hand stroking his cock with slow, long strokes and the second finger pushing up inside him. A rock and a hard place...

Eames took his time stretching him, his fingers scissoring, pushing back and forth. His fingertips brushed over Arthur's prostate, and the young man's knees almost gave out beneath him.

"Let's take this someplace else." Eames voice vibrated against his ear and it took Arthur a moment to comprehend what he had said.

On the way over in the bedroom, he reached for one of the towels to dry himself off. He shot a glance over his shoulder to look at Eames who had stopped, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door, arms crossed over his chest, looking at him. There is was again, that strange expression. It really wasn't any expression at all, just a look with the slightest hint of smile curling his lips.

Arthur had already one knee on the mattress when the Forger crossed the distance between him, his hand closing around his wrist.

"No," he said gently. "Not like this."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up, then furrowed in confusion.

With no explanation, Eames lead him around the bed, then sat down first with the back rested against the headboard and pulled the young man into his lap.

The Point Man wanted to say something, wanted to voice his surprise about this novelty but Eames shut him up with another kiss. His strong hands went into the back of his head, fingers raking through his wet hair were it was now curling at the base of his skull.

Leaning into him, answering the kiss, welcoming it, Arthur's hands closed around the edge of the headboard, his hips circling against Eames'. He felt his cock slide against his crack, the tip brushing against his opening. He knew that his body wasn't ready yet (it had been so long since... he couldn't even remember when or where) but his mind was. And if he looked deep enough, his heart was ready, too. Was longing, was hungry for more.

This time, it was Arthur who broke the kiss first, sitting back, trapping Eames' cock beneath him. He wasn't sure if he could manage the words, so he just looked at the other man.

With a smirk, Eames nodded at the nightstand, his eyes sparkling somewhat mischievously.

Arthur leaned over to retrieve a small bottle of lube from the drawer. For a brief moment he wondered if that was complimentary as well and he couldn't help but grin.

Eames quirked an eyebrow at him but Arthur shook his head. "Nothing, I tell you later." He almost pounced into another kiss, lips mashing, tongues teasing, licking, tasting.

Meanwhile, Arthur squirted a bit the lube into his palm, reached around for Eames' cock. He hissed at the cold of the liquid and the touch as Arthur ran his hand from the tip all the way down to the base., slicking him up nice and slow. At least, he dipped the tip of his index finger into his opening, making sure he spread enough of the lube around the tight ring of muscles to ease the pain.

At the sensation, his head rolled forward against Eames' shoulder, his breath hot against the other man's skin.

"Do that again." Eames' voice was deep rumble in his chest. He grabbed Arthur by the shoulders, holding at arm's length to look into his face.

Doing as he was told (and there were only so few people who had that power over him), Arthur rode his fingers up his ass again, biting his bottom lip to keep in a moan.

"I could watch you do that all bloody day." With one hand, Eames brushed a few strands of Arthur's now unruly hair from his face.

"There's a time and a place for everything." Arthur had to concentrate to form the words and in the proper order, too. He knew how to give a good show but he also wanted more. Wanted him.

Without further ado, he guided Eames' cock to his entrance and slowly pushed down on it. His mouth fell open in a wordless plea, eyes squeezed, shut as a burning sensation rushed up his body, making his ears ring.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he taken him all the way in. For a few moments, all he could was sit in Eames' lap, letting his body adjust, letting his muscles stretch around him. It was, by far, not their first time (whenever they had the time and opportunity, they would shag each other high and dry) but as the old saying went, the first time always hurt.

Eames shifted beneath, getting into a more comfortable position. Arthur hissed at the sudden movement, at the unexpected change of angle. Eames wrapped his arm around the small of his back, pulling him against his chest, holding him steady. "I got you," he murmured, again in that deep voice that did funny things in the pit of Arthur's stomach. "Ready when you are."

At the words, Arthur pulled back from him, trying to get a read off his face. Eames just returned his gaze steadily, his lips quirked into a smile.

Another beat passed between them before Arthur shifted his weight to his knees. At first, he only rolled his hips gently back and forth, figuring out just the right angle, how to tilt his pelvis, how to hit all the right spots along the way.

While they knew each others body like the back of their own hands, like the surface of those carefully crafted totems, the first time was always about rediscovery. Sometime they would spent month apart (this time it had been even more than a year), and in the meantime they would acquire all sorts of new scars, new spots that were a little too sensitive to touch.

Arthur's eyes snapped back to Eames' as the Forger's strong hands closed down on his hips, redirecting his movements just by a fraction. He met his thrust halfway, pushing up into him, by pure instinct hitting that spot inside him that sent sparks flying into his vision.

"Oh f...," Arthur exclaimed. Or tried to as Eames shut him up with a kiss. He licked and nibbled his way into his mouth, drawing out all the little moans and groans as Arthur quickened his pace.

It felt amazing. Perfect, even.

Arthur didn't believe in destiny or soulmates or anything like that. He was a scientist, he believed in facts. Of course, dreaming for a living betrayed that sort of believe on a regular basis but in the real world, he needed his facts, his trivia, his stats. And yet, sometimes, when he was all by himself, he knew this was probably meant to be. Of course, he'd never admit it out loud, he would never hear the end of it. In fact, these thoughts scared the living shit out of him, but it all fit too neatly for him not to dwell on them every now and then.

They could not see each other for months but when they did, it felt just like old times. They didn't even need words to communicate. All it took was a key and a room number in Eames' crooked hand writing, and Arthur knew.

He knew just like he did now when Eames pushed into him all the way to the base. It just fit.

Holding on to Eames' shoulders, Arthur began to ride him at a quicker pace, his own cock sliding up and down between their bodies, somehow painfully abandoned. He leaned his forehead against the other man's, feeling his ragged breath against his skin.

"Please," he whispered almost inaudibly. "Please."

He felt Eames' smirk as he kissed him. "You go to town, darlin'. I got you."

A pleasant little chill ran down Arthur's spine, a sensation he couldn't quite name. He didn't have time to ponder whatever feeling it was, when Eames' hand closed around his cock, starting to stroke him in sync with his pace.

He spread the little trickle of precum down his length, twisting his hand slightly as he went down, brushing the pad of his thumb over the head and slit on the way up.

Arthur knew he wasn't going to last long as this rate. It was just too much. First the adrenaline rush of the case still lingering in the back of mind, then the little scavenger hunt to the hotel and now this. He wanted to get off, and he wanted to take Eames with him.

He rode him harder, faster, each time pushing down a little deeper. Thrusting up, he met the tight circle of Eames' hand. Soon enough, a slow, sweet pressure built up in the pit of his stomach, spreading slowly throughout his entire body. He was aching for release, wanted to give into the sensation, loose himself in it.

"I'm...," he managed in between strangled groans, trying to voice his need. "I'll..."

"Just let go, luv. Let go."

It was those simple words that took him apart.

He came with a mindless challenge rolling from his lips. Technicolor sparked in his vision as a white hot blizzard of pure pleasure spread into every fiber of his body.

He spilled himself in thick ropes over Eames' hand and stomach. Even as he thought there was no more for him to give...

"Fuck..." he pressed through gritted teeth. He'd always chalked multiples up to myth (stuff of dreams, really) but this sure felt like it. Maybe it was, probably wasn't, but he couldn't care any less.

Riding it out against Eames', he felt his own muscles clench around the other man's cock. He wanted to look him in the eye but he didn't manage to open his eyes. All he could do was hold onto his broad shoulders, fingers digging into strained muscles, and feel him irrupting inside him.

Eames' hips bucked up against his, pushing even deeper than he possibly could, filling him completely. He had his arm wrapped around Arthur's waist, holding him in place until he was spent.

Arthur felt his heart beat wildly in his chest and his arms wouldn't support his weight as he tried to straighten up. Instead, he leaned his forehead against Eames', their sweat and breaths mingling, dwelling in the afterglow.

They sat like that for what seemed like a half hour (when it really was only a few minutes) until Arthur was finally able to move again. As slowly as his exhausted body would let him, he pushed himself off Eames. He almost sighed in frustration as his cock slipped from his body, leaving him sore and empty. Promptly, he flopped down on his back, limps sprawled like a rag doll.

"That was..." Words failed Eames which was something new as well.

"Yeah," Arthur replied in the same lack of coherence.

The other man eyed him with a smirk. "I like it when we talk afterwards."

Arthur was surprised he had still enough energy to chuckle.

He sucked in a breath as Eames leaned over him to lick his cum off his stomach, his stumble tickling on his skin. For a moment he watched him clean up the mess they had made, licking circles around his belly button, dipping in, then trailing open mouthed kisses up his torso.

"What wrong with you?" he asked then, brows furrowed.

Eames looked at him. He didn't quite manage to pull off an innocent look. He might be a man of many faces but that was one of his rather weak impressions. "What? I know how you don't like to be... sticky."

"No, I mean... you. You've been acting strange ever since I got here. It's... weird."

A smile made Eames' eyes sparkle. He pushed himself up on one arm, his face awfully close to Arthur's. "Weird, eh? That's what I like so much about you, Arthur. Your... specificity."

"Oh, so you do know the word?"

"You're a good teacher."

"Shut up."

Eames kissed him. Slow and sweet and with the taste of his own cum on his tongue. Then he turned on his back again, resting his head on Arthur's stomach, hands folded over his stomach. He hesitated for a while before he spoke again.

"I'm just...a bit rattled is all. Guy's life on my hands..." He looked at his palms as though were still covered in the imaginary blood. "Was a close call today."

It finally dawned on him why Eames had been acting so strange today, why he had been so uncharacteristically considerate. Usually, nothing ever seemed to disturb him. Whatever they were confronted with, he faced with a shit eating grin and a quip and then he shot it in the head. Sometimes he would need a stiff drink or three afterwards but other than that, none of their work ever seemed to have repercussions on him. Until now...

"Hey," Arthur put a finger under his chin, tilting his head so he could look him in the eye. "We did it, alright? You did it."

"Yeah, I know." Eames shot him another smile that wasn't quite as convincing. His fingers closed around Arthur's wrist and pressed a quick kiss to his pulse.

They lay like that in silence for a while.

"So, you got any more work lined up, then?" Eames asked, trying to make it sound casual but Arthur knew him better. He was actually curious, maybe even more than that.

"No. I think I might actually take a break for a bit. You?" To his surprise, his question had the same tone to it.

"Nah. Guess I won't take any more jobs until Christmas, at least. And then it has to involve puppies."

Arthur laughed at that, a wholehearted belly laugh. It felt good.

"So what were you snickering about earlier?"

When Arthur told him, it was his turn to laugh. "It's a good hotel but it's not that good. Thought I'd impress you with my preparation skills." There was a mixture of a smile and sincerity crossing over Eames' face.

They held the gaze for a while and for some reason, it confused the hell out of Arthur. What was this? What was going on? How did they manage to be this casual and awkward around each other all at the same time?

Eames was the first to break eye contact. Instead, he focused on picking some imaginary lint off his stomach. "So, uhm... since we're both unemployed yet awfully wealthy... what'd you say if we just... stayed for a while?"

Arthur stared at him in disbelieve. That, he hadn't seen coming. And was Eames blushing, too?

Before his mind had time to properly process that thought, he heard himself say: "Yes."

Eames all but flinched at the answer. He barely managed to fake hesitation before he turned to look at him. "You sure?"

Arthur could swear he heard a hint of fear in other man's voice. "Yes."

Eames kissed him before he could say anything more, deep and slow and Arthur had to actually shove him away before it turned into more again.

"Let's just take it slow, okay?" He voiced his sudden concern about what they were about to rush into headfirst. "One step at a time."

For a long moment, Eames just looked at him, face unreadable. Arthur wasn't sure if it actually took him this long to process what he had just said or if he just stared at him. The wide grin that followed convinced him of the latter.

"Let's start with room service. I'm starving." Eames' words broke the tension. He gave him another quick peck on the lips, then hopped off the bed. "I'll get myself cleaned up."

"So I'll just order whiskey and everything else they have on the menu?"

The Forger grinned at him. "You know me too well, Arthur."

"No," Arthur murmured as Eames had disappeared in the bathroom. A smile quirked his lips and couldn't help but shake his head in surprise. "I really don't."

Then he reached for the phone.


End file.
